


To Add Something New to this Wonderful Year

by AManAdrift



Series: Scenes from the Life of Phil Shepard [4]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2018-12-15 03:55:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11797857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AManAdrift/pseuds/AManAdrift
Summary: Phil Shepard arranges with the Citadel Council and Admiral Hackett to award campaign medals to the crews of Fifth Fleet and theNormandyafter the Battle of the Citadel.This grew out of atumblr postwhere I unveiled the Citadel Fleet Service medal I designed with a press-release/Citadel-elevator-news-announcement-type vignette.





	To Add Something New to this Wonderful Year

“Ten-HUT!”

Spinal reflex, engrained from the age of sixteen up, jammed Shepard’s heels together before he could do anything , but then he remembered that he wasn’t an enlisted man any more, so he could probably get away with looking ’round to see what was going on. In fact, as the senior officer in their group it was arguably his duty to. From the parade-ground snap in Ashley’s voice, something serious was clearly up.

From the sheer weight of gold braid and bullion on the shoulders of the officer who’d just entered the room, there was only one person it could possibly be. Shepard turned to face him and raised his hand to the band of his beret with all the snap that Ashley… was doing right next to him, in deference to flag rank.

“As you were, commander, chief.” A very familiar voice acknowledged them both as Admiral Hackett returned their salute, then his face broke into a grin. “We finally meet in person, Commander Shepard.”

Shepard returned the smile with interest. “Yes, sir. And congratulations on your promotion, admiral.”

“Thank you, commander.” The newly promoted commander of the entire Alliance military acknowledged coolly. “Although really I should be congratulating you. On multiple counts.”

“Sir?”

“Well, for one thing, you’re getting married. Or had you forgotten?” Shepard and Ashley gave the obligatory smiles owing to an Admiral’s Joke, but then Hackett’s face turned serious: “Incidentally, I will be able to be there, and I wanted to thank you for the invitation: I’m only sorry I couldn’t respond before. I wasn’t sure if I’d be on the Citadel.”

“I understand, admiral. I was busy enough just taking command of the _Normandy_ , let alone the whole fleet.”

A Lieutenant-Commander’s Joke barely rated a smile, but Hackett was a generous man; his voice was light-hearted as he went on: “More importantly: congratulations, you’re not going to be court-martialled!”

Shepard’s “Thank you, sir,” on the other hand, was entirely solemn.

“Thank yourself,” Hackett told him gruffly. “Or thank the timing: Parliament passed the statutory instrument confirming your Spectre immunity two days before you shipped out to Ilos. We could still take the _Normandy_ away from you administratively, but…” The admiral gave a queer little grimace. “…the decision was made not to.”

Shepard nodded. Passive voice or no passive voice, it hardly took a genius to realise that the Admiral of the Fleet would have a certain influence over any such decision. “I understand, sir.”

They were grateful to be interrupted in the midst of all the things they weren’t saying by the sound of the door opening. All three of them made uncertain movements of their feet that approximated coming to attention: Anderson was a Councillor now, and the protocolists hadn’t quite decided what military honours were due to such a person, so, bereft of tradition, they simply showed their respect.

Anderson nodded to them. “Good, you’re all here. Shepard, I take it the admiral has given you the good news?”

“Yes, sir: no court-martial.” A thought occurred to him, and his brow furrowed. “Uh, I guess the Alliance would never have let you be named Councillor if… but are you…?”

“…going to be punished for abetting a mutiny and assaulting an ambassador?” Anderson completed Shepard’s incoherent thought with a smile. “No.”

“We ultimately decided that if we can’t punish you, commander, we can’t punish anyone,” Hackett put in. Shepard nodded, and Anderson continued:

“Admiral Kapoor did make it clear to me that the fact that I was retiring helped. Thanks to you I have a new job to take up.” Anderson’s tone was ambivalent, and his look pensive as he cast his eyes around what had been Udina’s office, and was now his.

“That did occur to me, sir,” Shepard admitted, and then a mortified look passed briefly over his face. “Uh, that’s not the only reason I…” He tailed off again.

“Of course not,” Anderson smiled. “Anyway, we’ve established that nobody’s going to be punished, so it’s time to talk about the rewards we’re all getting. Do you have your candidates picked out?”

He looked at Hackett first, and the admiral nodded, keying his omni-tool to transfer information to Anderson’s computer. Anderson reviewed it, and raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want to take part yourself, admiral?”

Hackett shook his head, looking down at the front of his tunic. “Been there, done that, got the fruit salad,” he growled enigmatically. Anderson nodded, and turned to Shepard, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not necessarily in the same league as the admiral, but I agree.” Shepard told him, nodding respectfully to Hackett. “Unfortunately I only had time to talk to Wrex, and he wasn’t interested.” He turned from Hackett on his left to Ashley on his right, and grinned. “Fortunately, there’s one candidate I can _order_ to take part!”

Ash looked from man to man in confusion. “What? Why are you looking at me like that, sir?” She asked with all the wariness of a true N.C.O. when officers are being too clever.

Shepard grinned. “The Alliance is bringing in a new campaign medal, chief, for service with the Citadel Fleet. The Council is going to award the first four personally, and Councillor Anderson asked us here to pick candidates to receive them, from Fifth Fleet, and from the crew of the _Normandy_.”

Ash nodded comprehension as he explained, then blinked: “Me?” She asked elliptically, still looking from one officer to another. “All I did was work my damage control station.”

Shepard cast a brief look of his own at Hackett and Anderson, in case either of them wanted to field that one. “It’s a campaign medal, chief,” he pointed out: “that’s all you have to do. Besides,” he looked her straight in the eyes and went on in a low voice, “I want to raise your profile a bit: anyone you serve with in the future should be as proud as I’ve been… or people who serve with anyone from the Williams family, for that matter.”

It took every ounce of Ashley’s training to keep her from reacting visibly to that little one-two punch, although she so far forgot herself as to let slip a heartfelt “Oh, skipper!” Her lips tightened and she looked away as the full weight of his words sank in: he wanted to help rehabilitate her grandfather’s memory… _He_ wanted to help rehabilitate her grandfather’s memory. _And he’s got a great ass… but that’s not important right now… or, since he’s marrying Liara, ever. Dammit, skipper, why did you have to ambush me like this?_ Outwardly, she just nodded.

Obliviously, Shepard turned back to Anderson. “That’s one,” he said brightly, then turned to Hackett. “Uh, how many candidates do you have, sir?”

“Two.”

Shepard nodded. “Glad to hear it: I was planning on putting forward one from the ship’s crew and one from the shore party. And since Wrex has said No, that only leaves one.”

Anderson, whose memory of digging Shepard and his comrades out of the wreckage of the Council Chamber was still fresh, blinked as the denarius descended. “Commander,” he warned him, “I’m really not sure the Council will agree to that.”

Shepard looked unblinkingly into his old captain’s eyes this time. “Sir, I’d appreciate it if you’d do your best to persuade them. I think it’s important that the public know exactly who we owe our lives to.”

* * *

“Tali!” Shepard exclaimed as the elevator doors opened and he saw her emerging from the airlock tunnel. “That’s good timing: I was just looking for you.” His surprise was ratcheted up a notch when he saw that she was carrying a backpack. As lightly as quarians tended to travel, it was the most he’d ever seen her burdened with. “You change your mind about the hotel?” He asked.

“No… I mean, yes, I am checking into the hotel, but… I met up with another quarian… she’s taking a ship back to the Flotilla as a Pilgrimage gift, and… I’ve signed on for the voyage.”

Shepard smiled faintly: Tali was racing from pause to pause exactly the way she darted between cover in combat, but the smile soon faded: “It’s that time, huh?” His voice was husky. “When do you ship out?”

Tali hung her head and her answer was barely audible: “Next week.”

Shepard unknowingly twisted the knife by making no effort to hide the pained look on his face: “You can’t stay for the wedding?”

Tali’s voice held a pleading note: “I’m sorry, Shepard: I don’t know when I’ll get another chance to get back to the Migrant Fleet… and now that I have the data from Solcrum…”

Shepard had been ready to protest—that he would miss her, that he would gladly take her back to her people on the _Normandy_ …—but he could hear that she was begging to be understood. “OK,” he told her gently, and by an instinctive mercy looked away from her faceplate, turning his glance to her backpack. “Anyway,” he told her briskly and brightly, “there’s a couple of things you’ve forgotten,” he went on, grinning mischievously. “Wait here a minute?” Tali’s head made an indeterminate move between a nod and a head-shake, as deference to her captain warred with confusion, but before she could pick one he had disappeared into the airlock.

It was more like five minutes before Shepard returned, but when Tali saw what he was carrying, she reflected that with the speed of the _Normandy_ ’s main elevator—or lack thereof—he couldn’t have done much better.

“Shepard,” she remonstrated as she saw what he was carrying, “that’s Colossus armour! I can’t…”

“Tali,” he told her with laughter in his voice, “it’s _quarian_ Colossus armour. I bought it for you! What else am I going to do with it?” He held it out to her: the fact he could do it one-handed, by the comfortable carry-handle it sported in its compact transportable form, that explained and justified the hefty price-tag Kassa put on it all on its own. Tali accepted it mechanically, and turned her attention to the box under his arm, only to be swiftly boggled as she recognised _karriek_ slate, a material that had only ever been produced on Rannoch as far as she knew.

It wasn’t always easy to tell where Tali was looking, but in the circumstances Shepard managed to put two and two together. He whipped the two-hundred-year-old presentation case out from under his arm so casually that Tali’s eyes widened and she resisted the convulsive urge to reach out and make him take it easy. “I got you a little something as well. I was going to give it to you later, but…” The cool white material of the lid was so well-fitted that it parted silently from the rest of the case as he lifted it, and showed her what was inside.

Lying in specially-formed recesses of velvet-like cloth, separate curved strips of golden-coloured polymer, jointed to fit around the neck-piece and upper chest… not even of an environment suit, Tali realised: from its age, it would have to be a piece of a pre-Migration formal military hardsuit.

“Oh, Shepard! This is… Where did you find…?” Her voice turned apologetic. “Shepard, I can’t take this. It’s an award gorget… you have to have been given one of only five decorations by the Admiralty Board to wear it… and some of them haven’t been awarded in centuri… What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

* * *

A work gang had been taken from the vital rebuilding tasks that seemed to be multiplying on the list, and had spent an afternoon throwing up an elevated stand and some seating at the feet of the Krogan Monument on the Presidium. Some had questioned the wisdom of this move, but Councillor Sparatus in particular had insisted. He and his colleagues stood on the raised platform and he now stepped forward and let his rolling turian baritone reach out to the audience without benefit or need of amplification, though there were several audio and video pickups carrying his words across Council Space.

“For over a millennium, the peace and security of the alliance between the Citadel peoples has depended on the willingness of individuals to step forward, to stand their posts alongside their comrades, and defend Council Space with the Citadel fleets. As we welcome humanity as the newest Council race,”—he looked briefly to his left, and exchanged nods with Anderson—“it is only fitting that we recognise the service and the sacrifice of Fifth Fleet in the Battle of the Citadel, and provide ourselves with the means of acknowledging that service in the future, as vessels of the Systems Alliance take their places in the Council’s peacekeeping forces, and the Citadel Fleet itself.”

Sparatus paused, and cut his eyes left again, almost turning all the way around as he exchanged nods with Tevos this time: “It was our asari comrades who inaugurated the tradition we are here today to continue: asari warriors who have stood in defence of the Citadel are to this day entitled to carry a blue shield on formal parade. This tradition has been copied and adapted by the other Citadel peoples, and now the Systems Alliance, in consultation with this Council, has authorised the award of a new medal.” He held up the presentation case in his hands, and a camera remote focused on it so that at least those watching on the ’net could get a decent look at the bronze shield-shaped medal and its blue ribbon. “This medal will be borne by all humans who stand their posts in defence of the Citadel, and of the peace this Council strives always to preserve, and it is our honour and privilege to present the first four of them today.”

Sparatus paused and looked out at the first row of seats in front of the dais. “Ms. Leanne Zhang-Carradine,” he called out loudly and clearly, then locked eyes with her and dropped his voice so that it was gentle, and no louder than it needed to be: “Will you step forward, please?

“Service Chief Shannon Zhang-Carradine, Systems Alliance Marine Corps, was a platoon sergeant in the Marine detachment aboard the cruiser _Emden_ , and when _Emden_ placed itself between the geth fleet and the _Destiny Ascension_ , saving the flagship of the Citadel Fleet, and the lives of myself, Councillors Tevos and Valern, and our staffs, as well as the crew of the _Ascension_ at the price of its own destruction, and the lives of ever member of her crew, Service Chief Zhang-Carradine stood her post to the last.”

By now Leanne was standing in front of Sparatus, and in any other context the sight would have been comic. Even from the audience’s point of view below them she seemed to be about half the height of the turian Councillor, and her fine-boned body seemed to sway in a non-existent breeze as Sparatus’ words rehearsed her grief for time number infinity-plus-one. Sparatus made an inchoate gesture with his free hand, unsure whether to offer his support, but Leanne mastered herself and looked up at him with a steady gaze, through the tears that stood in her eyes. Sparatus held out the medal in its case and pitched his words to show that it was only by her that he cared to be heard:

“The debt we owe you can never be repaid. I can only acknowledge it.”

Leanne closed her eyes on her grief for a moment, then looked back into Sparatus' eyes and forced herself to speak firmly: “Thank you.” Sparatus nodded and stepped back into the line of Councillors as Leanne returned to her seat.

Tevos walked forward, waited for the cameras to focus on her, and for Leanne to get halfway down the stairs, then spoke: “Boatswain’s Mate Third Class Hector Killian, step forward.”

An impossibly young-looking man in largely unadorned Alliance blues stood and made his way briskly up to the stand as Tevos introduced him: “Serviceman Killian joined the crew of the dreadnought _Fuji_ , flagship of Fifth Fleet for his first space deployment, on the 7th of October of this year, one week before the Battle of the Citadel.” By this time Killian had reached her, and in the last couple of days the protocol had been decided on: Councillors _did_ get a salute from service members wearing their covers. Tevos acknowledged it with a nod, and went on speaking as she pinned the medal to Killian’s shirt: “When the _Fuji_ went into action in defence of the Citadel, Serviceman Killian and his shipmates stood their posts.”

Tevos stepped back, and smiled impishly at the wide-eyed stare she was getting from the young man; she yielded to impulse, leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. The blush that spread over Killian’s face provoked a good-natured titter from the crowd, as did the fact that Tevos practically had to grab him by the shoulders to turn him around and show it to them.

Tevos retired to the line and Anderson stepped up. “Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams, step forward.” Ashley’s tread was more measured than Killian’s, but equally brisk as she ascended the dais to stand and salute the man who had briefly been her captain, as he introduced her: “Chief Williams is sergeant-major of the Marine detachment aboard the frigate _Normandy_. It was the _Normandy_ that brought the news of the attack on the Citadel to Arcturus Station. It was the _Normandy_ that came to the defence of the Citadel at the head of Fifth Fleet, and when the _Normandy_ struck the blow that destroyed the flagship of the geth fleet”—he paused to pin the medal to Ashley’s tunic—“Sergeant-Major Williams stood her post.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ash whispered. Anderson nodded, and she executed a smart about-face and tried not to feel like a total impostor as she marched back to her seat. It was the first time anyone besides the skipper had called her ‘sergeant-major’. Service Chief Braun, the next most senior Marine on the _Normandy_ , who had, after all, been assigned the job, had assured her that he was fine with it, and so had Joker, who, let’s face it, had actually done the fancy flying, and fired the shot that took out Sovereign, but… It wasn’t as if she didn’t appreciate what the skipper was trying to do for her and for her family’s name; it just smelled of… politics.

“Tali’Zorah nar Rayya, step forward.” Ash gave Tali a reassuring nod and smile as they passed each other, and Councillor Valern gave the introduction that days of tense debate and negotiation had settled on:

“This is by no means the first time a quarian has served honourably in defence of the Citadel and Council space: Tali’Zorah was part of the _Normandy_ ’s ground team, that fought its way to the Council Chamber, and unlocked the Citadel’s mass relays so that Fifth Fleet could come to our aid. Though the quarian Migrant Fleet no longer maintains diplomatic relations with the Citadel,” Valern went on as Tali lifted her chin so he could fasten the gorget around her neck. She refastened her hood over it as he continued: “Tali’Zorah’s actions amply demonstrate that the quarian people have lost none of their valour.”


End file.
